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 Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2016 7:59 pm
He had a fine new quill and a fine new pot of ink. There was no breeze to blow away his parchment and no one around to disturb his concentration. Itzamatul stood on the flattest rock he could find on the edge of a very rocky beach. He was trying to sketch out the shores he and Eleuia had just flown over. She was still aloft, tracing a river to see if she could find the source. While she did that, he drew.
It was a good system they had together. He, having predominantly flutter blood, wasn't an exceptionally strong flier. But, he could shrink. He'd make himself small and then sit himself onto a specialized saddle on her back. He wasn't sure if saddle was the right word for it. It was almost more like a backpack with a hole in the top for him to nestle into, but he rode upon her with it, so he supposed saddle was the right term. She was a condor, capable of soaring on thermals all day while barely beating a wing. Upon her, they could travel far more distance and at a greater height than he ever could hope to reach himself.
Carefully, ever so carefully, he added marks to the page. He had plenty of parchment but always hated wasting it. These preliminary map sketches were always messy, but he'd try to keep it as neat as possible.
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Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2016 8:04 pm
Idly, Treasure watched the stallion. He was a smallish fellow, more flutter than anything. He had claws and was covered in strange objects and instruments, but he didn't seem actually intimidating. He looked bookish, a strange human hobby. Treasure never knew what to think of bookish soquili. She didn't understand how they stared at markings on a page and made them into words. It was unnatural, something close to witchcraft. He had several books in a bag slung against his side. Bookish indeed. It made her not trust him.
She tapped her tail thoughtfully on the ground, knowing that she was too far out of sight for him to see the gesture. She could rob him. She didn't make a habit of robbing soquili, was more of a treasure hunter herself. Still, she thought she could get away with it. She liked the golden bells that hung off him and thought she could see some sort of gem glinting against his chest. She wouldn't mind adding those to her personal stash. She sneaked forward, thinking. That's when she noticed what he was doing. He wasn't writing queer human words, he was drawing. He was drawing a map.
Treasure loved maps just as much as she mistrusted writing. Her eyes lit up in delight upon the realization. He was a maker of maps! Suddenly, she was willing to forgive a lot of strangeness about him. Coming out into the open, she sauntered down to where he worked.
"Yo, weirdo!" she called out genially.
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Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2016 8:06 pm
Itzamatul almost jumped out of his skin. He had thought that he was quite alone, and now suddenly there was a kelpi trotting cheerfully towards him. He looked at her, then looked back at his map. With a stab of dismay, he realized that an errant ink mark arced across it, testament to his jumpy nerves.
"I... hello," he said absently, looking bleakly at the parchment that he'd had such high hopes for.
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Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2016 8:07 pm
"You do maps?" asked Treasure, even though she knew the answer. "Hey, I love maps!" She trotted up to his side, smiling down at the smaller stallion. "Th'name's Treasure. Who might you be?"
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